


A Change of Scenery

by Missileface



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Urban Magic Yogs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:36:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missileface/pseuds/Missileface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you move from a small hick town to the big city, you start to notice a lot of things you might have once took for granted; the fresh wind in your hair, the stars greeting you in the evening, a view worth viewing, and surprisingly, not having to deal with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Scenery

When you move from a small hick town to the big city, you start to notice a lot of things you might have once took for granted; the fresh wind in your hair, the stars greeting you in the evening, a view worth viewing, and surprisingly, not having to deal with magic.  
Sure, it was around, you might have heard one of your old co-workers talking about it once, and just maybe the incident with the missing girl was a tad too suspicious in your eyes, but it’s not like you had ever come into direct contact with it, until recently that is. ‘A Change in Scenery,’ was what your parents had suggested, but neither of you had thought that scene would be marred with runes and sigils of all shapes and sizes, what you think is blood splattered on the bottom of bridges, long forgotten chalk along inconspicuous stone pathways and a missing persons file thicker than the bible, but you won’t let that distract you, your name is William Strife and you will be damned if you let a few weirdos and nut jobs bring you down.  
You came to get some inspiration, tired of the trials and tribulations of a placid life. It’s not like you’re completely alone in this urban jungle, your uncle (and now legal guardian) seems nice enough, a tad eccentric and a dash overprotective, but nothing to frustrating. Not to mention you have a few old friends from back home, Parvis only moved to the city a few years back, surely he couldn’t have forgotten about you. And old Ridgedog is sure to be a laugh if you can ever track him down. You think you can hear your uncle calling you down for dinner, probably Pizza Pockets again, another riveting Friday night in the Xephos household 

“Thanks for dinner Xephos” you say, pushing your empty plate away from you.  
“Don’t mention it Will, you can just call me Xeph by the way.” He replies, “Did you have any plans for the weekend?”  
“I’m not sure; I might try and hang out with parvis if he’s up for it. Considering how little contact I’ve had with him though, that may not work out.”  
“Which side of town does he live on?”  
“The north side, I think the suburb is called New Camelot.”  
“Ooh, that’s a dangerous area Will, maybe go in the daytime?”  
“Hmm, I guess. Regardless, I think I may just go to bed for the night Xeph.”  
“But it’s so early!” Xephos remarks.  
“It’s been a rough week, I’m sure you can tell.”  
“Well, goodnight then, sleep well.”  
“Night,” you wave goodnight and then retreat to your room upstairs, a newly refurbished study. You can’t help but feel your uncle was slightly chided when he realised he would have to reshuffle his entire apartment to accommodate you, not like it really matters, he spends most of his time at that odd girlfriends house of his anyways, and leaves you alone to your thoughts. You much prefer your thoughts to his mothering anyways, time for you to get out of here. Opening the window of the 5th floor apartment, you climb onto the fire escape, quiet as a mouse as you descend to the still bustling street below you. Pulling a scrap of paper out of your pocket, you read: Parvy-Poo, 27 Oak street, New Camelot. You also detect what is likely to be a dried wad of spit on the paper, classy as always Parvis. After you quickly collect your bearing, you head off to the north side of town. 

“Parvis!” you yell as your knock on the door, “You home?”  
Nothing.  
You knock harder, “Come on asshole, I know you didn’t make me walk all this way for nothing!” you shout into the likely vacated premises, met with only silence.  
“Tch, I dunno what I expected,” you mumble to your defeated self “ah well, doesn’t mean I can’t relax while I’m here’  
You once more slip out the window and onto a fire escape, this time from the hallway window of the apartment block and onto a ledge 17 stories high. Feeling a tad nauseas from the height, you settle down into a seated position, legs between grated bars, feet swinging off the edge, and face firmly squashed in the grate, you can admire all this city has to offer: around 5 kilometres of skyscrapers and dirty hostels, avant-garde night clubs and dive bars alike. You light a cigarette in celebration of your new life, projectRED smokes; best in the business for a good hit, and you settle into your seat as you view the vast sea of potential that lies in front of you

Something that catches your eye, about a block and half away from you, a alleyway opens into a small square, completely bordered by buildings several stories high, creating a enclosed space with only one entry and exit. You can see 4 figures in the square, 3 on the sides, creating a triangle formation with one blocking the exit. The other you can see floating in the centre of the squ- OH. You now realise what drew your attention.

“I simply can’t fathom just what you boys are playing at,” the man in the centre utters, standing at about 2 and a half metres tall, sparks of electricity bounding around his body, from his otherworldly ram horns down to his fawn feet and legs, juxtaposed against his otherwise human appearance, “to think a group of small time fae would have the nerve to challenge their sidhe, I can definitely remark you on your bravery”  
“Oh boy, a compliment from big Dave himself, reckon we can use that to get free stuff?” one of the other men jokes, standing between the floating man named Dave and the exit, this man was significantly shorter than the others, wearing respectable clothes with the exception of shoes and including some sort of leather shawl hanging from his waist. While observing from a distance, you notice that his appearance seems slightly off, fake you might say. You also quickly notice that his appearance is the lease abnormal of the 3 grounded men. The one furthest from you, on the far side of the square, you can describe in 3 words: Psychotic, Filthy, and Wet. Ginger hair and beard frame sinister eyes and a wicked smile, what was once a white v-neck poking out of a leather jacket, both articles of clothing stained beyond recognition, with ripped jeans and dark leather boots, this man is probably the kind of person your uncle warned you about. The most auspicious aspect of his appearance however, is the state of his clothes; they’re all visibly damp in addition to his hair, clinging tightly to his skin. The last member of the triad is almost as outlandish as the centre man; shirtless, apart from large, obsidian wings extending from his shoulder blades; casual jeans, apart from the large stone tail with pointed barb at its end. Smooth white skin and with small, nubbly horns protruding from his forehead, if there was any doubt that this was not a normal altercation, this beast-man just erased it.

 

“Smith: Ross, what do you say? Should we bring our mighty king down here to frolic with the plebeians?” suggests the shorter male, looking at each of his companions than back to Dave.  
“I reckon that’s a pretty good idea Trott” Smith mocks before launching himself off the ground and towards Dave, jumping stories high before getting hit away by Dave and landing gracefully on the ground again. The beast named Ross follows suit, “EAT SHIT ASSHOLE” he yells with bloodcurdling fury. Dave has no trouble combating these assaults however, knocking both of his attackers with less effort than should be needed. They repeat this process several times, while Trott circles around the square, not attempting to aggress Dave like his two comrades.  
“This is getting rather tiring gentlemen!” Dave exclaims before knocking Smith and Ross away from him and off their feet with an invisible explosion of energy. Extending his hands out to his side, strange letters of a foreign language begin to glow on his arms; the electricity around him begins to grow increasingly violent. Anticipating this, Trott steps forward, shouting something unintelligible and throwing his hands up, glowing shells of light envelop the trio, each one peppered with more sigils and marks. And not a moment too soon, as Dave’s spell reaches its climax in a controlled maelstrom, ripping through brick and mortar but leaving the 3 men unharmed, and sensing a moment of opportunity, Ross, Smith and Trott spring into action.  
“ROSS! NOW!” Trott yells, and with that, Ross jumps above Dave, flipping so his rear, tail and barb, are flung towards Dave. Realising the incoming blow, Dave attempts to readjust to counter the blow, but is caught off guard and is knocked off balance, allowing Smith to follow through. As he flies through the air fist first, you can swear you can hear waves, and you realise you can see water streaking from the back of Smith’s enclosed fist. Reaching Dave, the wave sounds reach the pinnacle of a gush of water against cliff face, you flinch instinctively, expecting a downed Goat man when you resume watching, and however you find that, instead, Dave has regained his composure and caught Smith by the upper arm before the blow landed. Witnessing the trio’s surprised looks, Dave chuckles before using his psychic ability to dismember the captured arm of his assailant.  
“SMITH!” The Trott and Ross yell in unison, Smith howls as he tumbles to the ground, separated from the thing holding him in Dave’s grip. Before he can land however, Ross is able to catch him and he leaps to Trott’s side, who repositioned himself at the exit of the square.  
“We have to get out of here Trott!” Ross warns and as Trott nods, he assumes a braced position.  
“What a waste of a plan,” Trott grunts “Hate to cut our little play-date short sunshine, but our mate here’s got a booboo we need to put a band-aid on.” He explains to Dave.  
Once more whispering an unknown language into the air, a large magic circle, as large as the entire square, camouflaged as dark chalk against nightlit brick, begins to glow a bright orange. From the circle Trott likely drew while Smith and Ross aggrieved Dave, wave after wave of tendrils of thick orange ectoplasm emerge and whip towards Dave. As soon as they reach him they dissolve into nothing, likely crumbling in only his presence. This spell lasts several seconds, dispelled with a small wave of Dave’s arm. However, this was all the time his adversaries needed to disappear into the night  
Descending back onto ground, hooves and horns disappearing, slipping back into the likely guise of a normal human, Dave sighs to himself:  
“The garbage court, always such a joy,” he tells the air. “And you, don’t think I didn’t notice your presence up there.” you hear his voice as clearly as if he was right next to you. 

You begin to pay more attention to yourself then you have in the last several minutes. And then immediately begin to panic; long forgotten cigarette dropping from your mouth to the street below, looking around to fruitlessly find the one Dave was referring to and looking back to the square, you see Dave has disappeared.  
“ProjectRED huh,” You hear beside you once more “I’m more of a Natura man myself”  
You look beside you to see the man who was only moments ago standing 30 metres away, smoking a cigarette from the packet you were only moments ago clutching in both hands.  
“Evening William, my name is Dave, and as you probably have observed, I am not human.”  
“Pleasure,” you choke out, your own spit strangling your words.”So what are you?”  
“A Fairy, Fae if you will, and a particularly strong one at that, as a Sidhe Lord, I am in rulership of most of the magical beings in this city”  
You nod, feeling very understanding and in total disbelief  
“What you witnessed then was a fight between myself and a group of rambunctious hooligans, the garbage court, as they have come to be known,” Dave continues, his gentle hum of power accentuating his every word “but that’s not why I’m talking to you right now Will, not at all. See, the reason I noticed your presence is because I felt a tinge of magic residing in you will, do you know if you have any relatives that are hedgewitches or witches?” he asks casually.  
Shocked by the anticlimactic revelation, you wrack your brain for an answer to his question.  
“I don’t think so,” you reply unsurely “I’ve only recently moved to the city, so I haven’t been exposed to much magic before…” you trail off.  
You swear you can see a hint of amusement on Dave’s face before he regains his poker face, “Interesting, well tell you what Will, I own a small florist in the central business district, I would love for you to come visit me, I really wanna help you out here” he smiles warmly at you as a scrap of paper and plain pen appear in each hand, you recognise the paper as having Parvis’ address on the back” Writing his address on the paper in flowing handwriting, he hands it back to you.  
“What is it that you want to help me with exactly” you boldly question  
“You’ll have to come find that one out for yourself,” he says cryptically as he winks your way. “I really hope you can come to visit.”  
Getting up, Dave waves the cigarette in front of your face, “Finish this off for me wont you, I can’t handle the stuff.” Accepting it, you feel a gust of wind and turn to find Dave gone in mostly the same fashion as he came.

You feel winded, you really do. You begin to smoke the smoke dave gave you and you stare at the small scrap of paper for a long time, what feels like hours but is probably just minutes.  
You yourself stand up again, looking out over the city from the fire escape once more, that ocean of potential you were just talking about? It’s become a raging storm in less than half an hour.  
“What in the honest fuck” You mumble, as you retreat back though the hallway window, back into the night streets of the city, and back into your uncle’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> pls be gentle


End file.
